For the Benefit of the World
by FistfulOfFire
Summary: "Everyone in this world, everyone and anyone who exists, has existed, or will exist, will change the world, whether they intend to or not. It's their choice whether to benefit it… or bring it to its knees." A sorta-kinda SI, OC. T for language and my effed-up sense of humor. My attempt at a semi-serious fanfiction. Don't own the image.
1. Chapter 1: Emanate

For the Benefit of the World

.

**Disclaimer: You'd have to be stoned off your ass to think I own any part of Naruto.**

**Warning: Uh… Language? (A bit late, there, I think.) Oops? Un-beta'd. Seriously, I need one. My spelling sucks.**

* * *

><p><span>Summary:<span>

"Everyone in this world, everyone and anyone who exists, has existed, or will exist, will change the world, whether they intend to or not. It's their choice whether to benefit it… or bring it to its knees." A sorta-kinda SI, OC. T for language and my effed-up sense of humor. My attempt at a semi-serious fanfiction.

* * *

><p><span>Story Intro:<span>

I was given a name.

I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry at such a coincidence, but for some ungodly reason, the matrons at the orphanage saw it fitting to name me, a no-name baby dropped off at their doorstep, "Masuyo."

As in "Masu-" (益), benefit, and "-yo" (世), world.

The ones who named me seemed to be carving out my destiny for me, as if I'd had no choice.

(Well, really, I didn't. I was still an infant wondering how the hell I'd gotten into this mess, but that's beside the point.)

What if I had _wanted _to be evil? Not that I had, but still, I would've liked a bloody _choice _in the matter.

Ah, well.

I was already here. Might as well do _some _good.

After all…

How many of you can raise your hands and say you know the future?

* * *

><p><span>Chapter One:<span>

I was born small, a pink carbon-based lifeform screaming to the high heavens because _this was not right._

I was a fairly logical child in both lives.

_Both_.

I loved patterns. I loved math and lines and predictability. I loved expecting something, and the familiar rush of pride when it _actually happened the way I had thought it would_. Patterns meant success. Patterns meant confidence in your answers. Patterns meant definite things, consistency.

But in real life, they changed.

Which I hated.

Theory was much better than real life.

Life itself was a pattern I could count on- it was consistent. But it surprised some with its consistency, even though it was the most obvious truth. People feared death. I saw it as pointless, like fearing breathing. Having grown up without fear of death may have helped in this way of thinking, though.

I loved the cycle.

You were born, you lived, you died. The end.

No variables.

Until I came around.

I cried as soon as I came out, finally conscious of my actions.

As it turns out, infantile amnesia only works if your mind is as fresh as a newborn's.

Alas, mine was not.

There's a freaking _reason _infantile amnesia exists. If you are unaware of it, _it's because birth is freaking terrifying, even from the child's perspective._

I realized why babies screamed so much.

Imagine: you're floating. Everything is a warm cocoon of safety. And then something terrible happens and you're screaming your head off because _holy crap, who are you ugly blobs of noise and vague color? I want to go home! Back to the squishy place! Take me back! Back! _But, of course, they don't listen.

So you scream.

And you scream.

And you scream.

Until you fall asleep being coddled by the warm, milky-scented one who had previously stuck something in your face that you had drank from, finally all panicked out.

Well, that sums up how I reacted.

The giant blobs of vague color, however, had chuckled and held me close throughout my panic-fest.

I didn't know what was going on. I didn't even know I had been reborn. In fact, my thoughts at the time went something along the lines of, "_Is this some cruel perversion of Hell?"_

I eventually fought, conscious against stupidly strong baby instincts, and the baby instincts won the clearly one-sided battle.

After that, I only started coming back to my senses six months after being born, and even then, it was only in wisps. Small thoughts, like, "_Haven't I seen this before?" _or , "_Where did _that _come from?" _Suggestions seemed best, so as soon as I was aware that I could actually _think_, I would go, "_I should learn to stand on two legs,"_ and _boom_. It was like Sims, but in first person and you only had one character.

Pretty boring Sims, as you couldn't build a five-story dream house _or _kill your characters, but oh, well.

I slowly overpowered my instincts, and by the time I was four-nearing-five, I was fully aware.

It seems I had been reborn in the small village of Sumi to Kami of barely over a hundred-fifty people somewhere in a place called the Fire Country (a name that gave me serious déjà vu), a place still recovering from a stupidly big war, because lots of things had been set on fire, exploded, and, for the most part, _killed_.

…

Well, damn.

* * *

><p>I lived in an orphanage.<p>

Which sucked.

Why? No, not because I got lonely and had wanted parents. I had lived a good, solid seven years without them, eleven if you counted the years here. And, no, it was not because it was terrible and the matrons hated our existences.

The matrons were fine, the food was… acceptable, if you count in the fact that most of the crops had been destroyed in the war, and though the orphanage was plain and needed a few leaks fixed here and there, it was, for the most part, acceptable for children. The problem was… I got a bit lonely without people around at times, yeah, but I enjoyed solitude. I liked my personal space. And many, many children were left orphaned after the war.

To put it bluntly, the problem I had with the orphanage was… You couldn't scratch your nose without elbowing somebody in the face.

The orphanage was flooded with children, and it was a bit of a surprise they weren't outright rejecting some of them. The younger ones shared beds and the older ones were spread out on thin sheets on the ground. Me, being a lucky one, got a sheet by the window. You have to appreciate the small things in life, ya know?

But still.

I needed room to breathe.

I craved it like a pregnant woman craved strawberries.

I _yearned _for it.

I wanted independence, and though I was still only four-nearly-five years old, I would strive to achieve it.

So I decided to start with literacy.

I was a good child, and everybody knew it. I never fussed, never asked for seconds, never whined about small things.

I'd been good for years, so it was about time I got rewarded for it.

"Mayuri-san, could you teach me how to write?"

She blinked in surprise, having forgotten that I even existed. The bad side of being quiet and low maintenance- people sometimes forgot you existed.

"Oh, uh, of course, Ma…" she stuttered, pausing on my name.

"Masuyo," I answered patiently.

"Oh. O-oh, yes."

She dropped the toddler she'd been holding back into its shared crib and brought me out of the room and into an unused closet, some old documents and a pencil she'd had in her apron in hand.

Apparently, there was some sort of educational program that showed the basics of reading, writing, math, and very, very basic self-defense to the orphans before they were sent on their way outta there. Most never kept up with the training part, but it made the ones who actually remembered the basic katas not so useless against the average mugger. I had no idea why they would teach flipping _martial arts_, but I had supposed that people were pretty paranoid post-war. Since it was only a quick lesson, though, Mayuri simply gave me the bare minimum of the writing portion.

After sitting me down on the floor, she drew out all of the characters in the alphabet and sang me the alphabet song.

I had seen some symbols on the signs for shops and such, yes, but when I actually studied them, I noticed that they were a sort of warped version of Japanese.  
>And then I realized I was speaking an entirely different language.<p>

I know, I know, I seem pretty… unfocused. But you have to know, I had been on autopilot for four years, unconsciously absorbing the language through immersion.

Hastily scribbling a sentence, she translated it to be, "Masuyo runs fast." A crash course on nouns (Masuyo), verbs (runs), and adjectives/adverbs (fast) soon followed. I repeated the alphabet to her, she nodded, and then rushed out of the room.

. . .

WOW.

Like, I understand she had, like, a _skillion _other kids to deal with, but _WOW._

So, humming the alphabet song under my breath, I began to write the meager scraps of what I remembered of English. Knowledge is power, ne?

* * *

><p>To the naked eye, I was a curious, albeit slightly mature, four year old, already walking around the small town on my own and spitting out carefully pronounced sentences, most starting with the consonant sound <em>wh-.<em>

Why are there bodyguards for the merchants that come through? _Because there are scary monsters in the woods, Masuyo-chan._

Why are there so many people coming through, but so few actually living in the village? _Because most people travel around for a living, Masuyo-chan._

Where is our village, again? _We live in the Fire Country, close to the Grass County border, Masuyo-chan._

What does the fox say? _What are you talking about, Masuyo-chan?_

All the adults thought I was a quiet, curious child, not knowing that I was carefully filing all of this information in my head to find my current location and time period.

My current hypotheses included a third-world country, an undiscovered territory, or time travel. I quickly crossed out the last one. Time travel? Impossible! Then I remembered- reincarnation. Oh, yeah. At this point in time, almost everything was fair game.

And then the dam broke.

Somebody dropped the S bomb.

And I'm not talking about the cuss word, I'm talking about- "Those goddamned _shinobi!_"

I blinked.

And planted my chubby hand against my forehead.

Well, fuck.

While the merchant continued his angry rant, blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil, I continued to hit myself on the head, ignoring the strange looks I was getting.

How the hell had I not noticed?

Yondaime, Konohagakure, Iwagakure, Fire Country, Daimyo, _shinobi._

I was an idiot.

I face palmed again.

And again.

_Third world country? _I wanted to laugh at myself. More like another world _entirely._

_I was so, so screwed._

* * *

><p>After my slight breakdown in the marketplace, I dragged myself back to the orphanage to view the damage my ruthless face palming had caused.<p>

And, just as I suspected, a red mark covered my forehead.

I was no stranger to my appearance, as the matrons had been fond of the Look-at-the-Baby-in-the-Mirror! game, simply because all they had to do was plonk the baby down on its butt in front of a mirror and it would be forever amused, giving them a chance to tend to others or get a rare snatch of a nap.

But even with the relative familiarity, I couldn't help but stare every time I found myself in a mirror.

I had red hair.

Like, Crayola Fire Truck red.

It had caused some teasing at first, but after a shameless tattle, the problem was gone. _Really, I don't understand why some would just stand there and take their pointless bullying crap, I'm an orphan for fuck's sake, I have nothing to lose! And besides which, I-_

Because of my looks, though, and my tendency to just _get up_ and _leave _the orphanage without anybody knowing, I didn't have any friends. Not that I cared, really, as any "friendship" at this age would most likely end up with me mother hen-ing them. I did have _one_, though, but that's a story for later.

I also had the most interesting eyes. Most interesting to me, at least. It seemed like I kept the eyes from my last life, which was odd. They were hazel. More green than hazel, but it had just enough flecks of gold to be classified as such.

I liked to spend my free time imagining I was a dragon trapped in a human form, but alas, such things didn't happen, even in the ninja-verse.

I blew a strand of too-long hair out of my face before pulling it into a tiny ponytail on top of my head.

My heart was beating fast.

My eyes were still slightly widened.

My mind was wandering off to vague topics.

Everything seemed shrouded in mist, like I was detached from my body.

I was in shock.

This was bad.

But I was still alive, which was good.

I was good.

I wasn't good, though, I was just… _okay._

_Okay._

I was probably going to die.

_Okay, okay._

I wasn't one for worry, I was supposed to be calm. And confident. And well adapted.

I thought of my old life, the small wisps of what was left, and I tugged them free until I fell into a memory.

Okay, okay, I thought. Okay, okay.

What would my past teachers do?

Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

Gather the facts. What is real, what is not.

Okay, okay.

I was in a fictional universe. My name here is Masuyo. I live in Sumi to Kami and their main exports are paper and ink. A war just passed. I'm an orphan. I have red hair and hazel eyes. I've been reborn.

Okay.

Gather some questions about the facts.

Okay.

I was in a fictional universe (Am I really? Is this a dream?). My name here is Masuyo. I live in Sumi to Kami and their main exports are paper and ink. A war just passed (What war?). I'm an orphan (Who were my parents?). I have red hair and hazel eyes (Were these traits my parents had?). I've been reborn. (_How?)_

Okay.

Gather answers to your question. Answer them as best you can.

Is this a dream? I face palmed again. It hurt. This was decidedly not a dream.

What war? I asked Mayuri. It was the Third Shinobi War.

Who were my parents? I asked Mayuri. She didn't know.

Were my traits similar to those of my parents? Mayuri didn't know. She didn't work at the orphanage at the time I was brought in.

_How the hell was I reborn? _Who knew?

Okay. Not good answers. Move on, move along.

Gather your thoughts on the facts.

Okay. Alright. I can do this.

I was in a fictional universe (Or, alternatively, what I _thought_ was a fictional universe.). My name here is Masuyo. I live in Sumi to Kami and their main exports are paper and ink (No shit. Sumi to Kami literally translates to "Paper and Ink".). A war just passed (It was the third war. I'm a bit older than Naruto.). I'm an orphan. I have red hair and hazel eyes (Uzu… Utsu… U-something. I can't remember the name of that one redheaded clan. Na… Narumi? Maybe. Narumi was one of them.). I've been reborn.

I grit my teeth. That hadn't helped at all with my stress.

I felt like I was falling into a bottomless pit of questions, and the more that I answered, the more that appeared.

This…

This was bullshit.

Maybe… Maybe I should take a nap.

I nodded to myself in the small closet I had long since claimed as my own.

Yes. A nap sounds nice.

* * *

><p>My fifth birthday came and went, and soon I began reading and writing everywhere I went. I was at a prodigal level, impressing the matrons at the orphanage and everybody else in this small town.<p>

But, because of my jumping the five-year hurdle, I was officially moved out of the toddler's room and into the not-quite-toddlers-anymore room consisting of kids ages five to twelve.

And they were _loud._

But back to language.

Though it may have been difficult in the beginning, I conquered hiragana and began eating up katakana with vigor. And, though the common tongue (As they called it. It couldn't have been Japanese, there was no Japan here.) may have seemed a bit daunting, once I had gotten into the swing of things, it was more like an art than anything.

The swoops and curves and tiny dots and the order you had to do them in… It was like painting.

I still didn't have a last name, though, which sucked monkey butt.

I was just Masuyo (益世). My name was one of the first things I had learned to write.

So my Japanese in general was going pretty swimmingly, and my English was awesome.

Why, you may ask?

Well, I remembered quite a bit of English, which was a pleasant surprise. But what helped the most, I think, might have been because, ever since realizing where I was, I dreamed of the entire Naruto series.

All of it.

Every night.

And my kami, it got old after the fifth week.

The first time it happened, I was confused. Most of the once-familiar words seemed foreign to me, but as I got further into Shippuden, stuff started to make sense again.

The second night it happened, I was entranced. It was like reading a really good book. The plot twists and emotion and color were astounding to me, especially since Konoha seemed so different and so vibrant compared to the browns and greens and greys of my hometown.

Third time it happened, I felt my dream-self grinning at her favorite parts and quoting along with her favorite characters.

Seventh time around, I started getting a bit sick of the Wave Arc.

Fifteenth… I was unamused.

Forty-second… I would kill to get a nightmare for once.

My dreams played the openings and credits and everything and I swear I can still sing Bluebird and Go! backward.

But I supposed it seemed cool.

And so, I entertained the idea of becoming a shinobi.

* * *

><p>A team of beaten-up ninja passed through, one of them missing an arm, and the others lugging bodies.<p>

No matter how exciting (or dull) the Naruto series was, I didn't want that.

The next day I ultimately decided to rip off several children's books and Harry Potter and live a quiet, peaceful life in the Land of Hot Water.

That night my dreams were all in the dullest shades of color imaginable and all the characters spoke monotonously. And it played _twice._

I quickly decided it would be in my best interest to become a shinobi, lest the universe do…_ that_ to me again.

* * *

><p>It was Christmas and I was contentedly chopping up vegetables with my best friend (more like <em>only friend<em>), Haru.

My writing in common tongue had soared and my English skyrocketed. I filled up pages upon pages with my life so far and future events. All of it was in English, though I had a few "false" journals with clumsy hiragana talking about dreams and such so the matrons wouldn't catch on to what I had written in the journals inside my straw pillow.

But ever since I had been blessed with the power of literacy, I had thrown myself into books and words and histories and accidentally cut off almost all source of human contact as I read in the forest just outside of town.

_Almost._

Because of my maturity, it ruined any relationship I could have with kids my age. But it also opened the door to any relationship with the people older than me. And who better than the town's jack-of-all-trades, Haru?

He was known around town as the boy who was up to any job- weeding, sorting, counting, heavy-lifting, etc.- so long as he got payed. If you didn't have any money, no problem! Just pay in a cool knick-knack, a pretty feather, or simply a bite to eat.

Haru had a part-time job everywhere, and that included the restaurant near the center of town. And, boy, did the kid know how to cook.

He came down to the orphanage he had lived in for two years just about every Christmas, Valentine's Day, White Day, and generic holiday he could to cook for us poor orphans, and the kids loved him (No idea why Christmas was still a thing in this world, since that meant Jesus had existed at some time. But there were also Buddhists, which meant Buddha existed here, too… Parallels? But that was impossible, I had already decided this wasn't a parallel universe. That would have meant the people would be the same. Maybe they were all forms of worshiping the Sage of Six Paths? I'll leave that thought for another time.). But nobody loved the boy like I did. Haru was my best friend. My brother, even. He actually lived in the orphanage until last year, when he was kicked out like all the other were when they turned sixteen, but he was up on his feet in no time, renting an apartment like a pro.

Yes, sixteen. That was the typical legal-adult age in this world, as the life expectancies were pretty depressingly low. If you were a ninja, however, you were an adult as soon as you were handed the headband, and since we were just crawling out of war times, some kids were adults by the time they were ten. Or, if you were Kakashi, at six or some ridiculous number like that.

From what I could tell, if you were a shinobi, the most deaths occurred in the teens to thirties, the lucky ones to their forties- average chuunin/jounin age. Civilians usually lived 'till their forties to sixties.

Anyhow, Haru had lived with his older brother who died in the recent bandit attacks that seemed to be happening everywhere, what with recovering towns being easy prey. Haru was then moved to the orphanage, his house sold, but he was able to keep the remaining money and buy an apartment as soon as he was let go.

Haru was pretty lucky, as most orphans in this town got an "internship" manufacturing goods for a good five-to-ten years, and as soon as that was done, "rented" a space on a caravan to sell their wares. Renting a space on a caravan was a lot like sharecropping- you got some "land", which was a shelf on the caravan, a few tools, food, a space to sleep, and then you pay back with what profit you had earned through selling stuff. Without the corruption and endless debt, of course.

I shook my head to loosen the dizzying thoughts. I was inner-monologuing too much.

"Hey, Masuyo, could you dice those onions?" Haru asked, gesturing to the bowl next to me. I nodded and began to cut, slightly clumsily, though, as my motor skills kind of… Well, they sucked. They'd get better in time, though. Being a kid was not something I could simply avoid, after all.

Haru nodded, pushing around the meat in the pan before deeming it edible and piling it on top of a giant plate of meat. There was slightly more than thirty kids to feed, better cook in bulk!

"Masuyo," he started. I nodded, turning to look at him and loving the fact that he doesn't use honorifics. I don't know, calling me, a grown-ass woman, -_chan _is just… belittling.

"I have a book, if you want it."

I made a face at him. "Like I'd ever turn down a book."

"Well, it's a ninja book," he shrugged.

I pushed my vegetables into the pan. "Is it an adventure book?"

"No, no," he shook his head, stirring the onions I just put in. "It's non-fiction."

I stopped. A non-fiction ninja book? "What about?" I asked carefully.

"Well, one of my brother's friends gave it to him a long time ago," Haru said. "It's… Chakra Control, I think. I have a few others, too."

My eyes lit up. _I was gonna be a mother fucking ninja! Hell yeah!_

"... Please?" I squeaked out, trying to contain my excitement.

Haru chuckled and ruffled my hair in the way that I pretended not to love.

Most kids my age got upset with the random hair-ruffles, but I thought they were the best things to ever exist. It was a show of affection, why not embrace it?

After dinner, Haru handed me a small sack of books right before he left.

The kids had been swarming my Haru all dinner (Yes, _my _Haru. I have staked my claim.), and it was only the excuse that he had to go that fended them off. So, standing on the doorstep, he passed me heavy burlap sack, filled with one, two, three thick books, all on ninja how-to's.

My eyes were filled with stars.

"Enjoy, Masuyo." He grinned at my expression.

I glomped him.

A real, proper hug-fest followed.

"You're the best, Haru," I mumbled into his shirt.

He gave me one last hair ruffle. "I know."

_I was gonna be a mother-effing ninja._

_Hell yeah._

* * *

><p>The next day I spent entirely in the woods, by a small trickle of water that dared to call itself a river.<p>

The winter weather was cool, but not freezing like I remembered it to be back in the place I remember called… New… New-something. New York? But then again, this _was _the Land of Fire.

After reviewing my choices of Chakra Control, Chakra Theory, and The History of Konoha (which was the smallest book, as Konoha was a _really_ young village, only eighty or so years old), I grabbed theory first. Then I'd work my way to Chakra Control, and read The History of Konoha in the orphanage whenever I had free time.

Chakra Theory… It was complicated. Annoyingly so.

I got the gist of it, that chakra was essentially life source. If you didn't have any, you died. But… from what I could tell, it was also like matter. It can't really be destroyed or created, it had to be stored, replaced, things like that. If you were to die with all your chakra, the chakra would decompose with your body and become nature chakra.

Chakra had no specific form or color, though it mostly came in shades of blue. There was some vague mention of a clan that had white chakra, though, and it was entirely possible. Chakra could be as dense as lead, heavy enough to suffocate, or as light as a feather, barely able to be detected. It all depended on spiritual/physical ratio. There were also a few reported cases of people being born with no physical chakra and unnaturally large amounts of spiritual, so much, in fact, that it burst the coils open, and killed the child as soon as they came out of the womb because their coils became black holes, trying to suck in the environment as the body's immune system attempted to murder itself. My theory was that they were reincarnated, like me, but without the proper genes that allowed giant coils to fit their spiritual energy in.

I shivered. If I hadn't been born with unnaturally large coils to store my chakra in, that may have also been my fate.

The book didn't say any of that, though. Not directly, at least. That was simply the stuff I'd found out of careful observation. What the book _did _say, however, went something like, "Chakra is like a battery! If you run out of juice, game over! Oh no!".

It went on in baby talk for so long I felt my face getting numb as my IQ steadily dropped. And then, as soon as I hit the thirtieth page, the words took an insane leap upwards, until I could barely discern what the hell was going on. After a couple of dictionaries I purchased with my small allowance, I finally got most of it.

I had actually gotten the first chakra exercise down. It was only basic monitoring, but it had instructions in the theory book so as to help me get a grasp of what was going on.

And, though I wasn't sure if I had done it wrong or what, according to the charts, I was already high-chuunin level with my coils, and they would only grow from there. This only increased my belief that I was an Uzumaki.

After spending nearly a month on deciphering first book, I moved onto the second, while the third was a parallel project.

And, boy, was the history of Konoha propagandized.

I could barely get through a sentence without "KONOHA IS BEST VILLAGE" blaring at me from between the lines.

The control book was a-_mazing_. Once you got past the bullshit, of course.

A warning in bold font stood in the cover of the book, even before page one.

_Warning: When using chakra-based techniques, it's best to monitor your chakra at all times! Chakra exhaustion is a serious thing, and many have died from it. Being a shinobi is very tough work, so stay safe!_

Next to the text box was a cartoony character wearing a (too small, in my opinion) nurse's outfit that I thought was supposed to be either a civilian nurse or a really poorly depicted medic-nin.

It went on to describe several side effects of chakra depletion. Headaches, dizziness, loss of consciousness, oh, and death. How cheery.

I sighed and plowed forward.

_How to Monitor Your Chakra!:_

It went on about the importance of it, taking up roughly two pages before things actually started being explained.

_First, be proficient in the Swirling exercise._

I blinked at it before internally raging, using the new vocabulary the dictionaries had taught me to go into a colorful silent rant. I glared at the pages, silently willing it to burst into flame. _I just read two pages worth of bull crap! And for what? The Swirling exercise should be the first thing in here, not _this!

I quietly steamed before calming and turning the page.

_The Swirling Exercise!:_

It then went on about what chakra is, then it defined control, and then it defined chakra control.

_No wonder this book is so heavy! _I scowled.

_First, be sure to monitor your chakra._

I was suddenly tempted to throw the book into the water.

I skipped that step.

_Next, begin the Meditation exercise while lying on your back._

I gritted my teeth and thumbed through the pages until I found the Meditation exercise.

_The Meditation Exercise!:_

I skimmed this bit, barely absorbing the _blah blah blah, chakra, blah_, and then the actual step-by-step list appeared.

_First, Monitor your chakra and swirl-_

_MOTHER FU-_

It took a while to get through the book.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yellow! Guess who's not dead? Yeah, super sorry about the slow updates, but I can only do what I can do. **

**Anyhow, I changed the basic format of the story from tons of unorganized snippets of Masuyo's life to slightly less chaotic snippets with fewer time skips. **

**Tell me is there are any mistakes, and I'll try my best to fix them.**


	2. Chapter 2: Contretemps

For the Benefit of the World

.

**Disclaimer: You'd have to be stoned off your ass to think I own any part of Naruto.**

**Warning: Uh… Language? (A bit late, there, I think.) Oops? Un-beta'd. Seriously, I need one. My spelling sucks.**

* * *

><p><span>Summary:<span>

"Everyone in this world, everyone and anyone who exists, has existed, or will exist, will change the world, whether they intend to or not. It's their choice whether to benefit it… or bring it to its knees." A sorta-kinda SI, OC. T for language and my effed-up sense of humor. My attempt at a semi-serious fanfiction.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Two:<span>

Six. I was six.

A year had come and gone, and here I was.

Six.

Which was a pain.

Why?

I was losing teeth.

Seriously.

It was an issue.

I looked like an inverse bunny rabbit.

But the bright side was that my chakra control did like everybody in the orphanage but me- that is to say, it _grew like crazy._ And then there was little ol' me, stuck at eighty-nine centimeters, or, if I were still in America, just under a yard tall. It was horrible.

At least I still had insane chakra control, though, right?

Which brings us to where I was.

Flat on my back, with the sun high in the sky, my books next to me on a sheet to keep them from getting wet, and my ridiculously long hair filled with grass.

I was deeper in the woods than usual in an attempt to get some relative peace, as my usual spot had been taken over by slobbery little monsters called children. Thankfully, they would leave when their caravan left for Konoha, but they were still goss little things that were splashing around in my creek.

Having just woken up from my nap, I decided to do a simple swirl, mostly because it was my favorite. The book, however thick, had only two dozen or so techniques, and I would have to go to a shinobi library with clearance to get any more. And _that _wouldn't happen until I managed to think of a way into the academy.

I had proudly perfected Meditation, Monitor, Swirl, Face, Leaf, Drop, and Coin (theoretically, Tree- and Water-Walking and everything beyond was well within my reach, but without a water source I couldn't water-walk and I wanted to do both within the same relative time frame.). Meditation was simple, since it was basically just learning how to be aware of your chakra, and Monitor was simply knowing how much you had. Swirl was kinda self-explanatory, but I'll get to that in a minute. Face was an extension of Swirl, moving and molding your chakra like it was Play-Doh and making it into shapes, though one of the more fun ones was a happy face. The Leaf exercise was described in the show, and Drop and Coin… Well, those along with Face were news to me.

The show only mentioned Leaf, Tree- and Water-Walking, so those were the only ones I knew. All the others were unexploited, so I had to do lots of reading on them. Drop was simple- even more so with those with water as their element. I had no way of checking, so I had to go through all of the steps to achieve it. Drop included putting your hand, palm down and flat, into a source of water and channeling chakra into your hand so you could drag the water out while it stuck. It was pretty freaky, but pretty awesome, too. Like zero-gravity. Backwards water-walking- instead of sticking to the water, the water stuck to you.

Coin involved taking a coin and getting it to stay on your finger tip. You could do it with several coins, too, and make them spin with simple fluctuations of chakra. If you had too much time on your hands, like me, you could study the coin for it's chakra "vibration", and, since everything in this world is organic in someway or another, everything had trace amounts of chakra. I simply matched my own chakra vibrations to that of the coins, and, like magnets, they pushed away from each other, sending the coin flying.

It took two weeks to figure that out.

Too much time on my hands, indeed.

Everything had chakra, and I mean _everything_, even plastic! The textbooks should have taken things a step further. It wasn't "if you don't have chakra, you aren't alive," it's, "if you don't have chakra, in theory, with this universe's laws, you don't even _exist!"_ Pretty cool, right? And, since everything has chakra and chakra vibrates, everything has what I call a "chakra frequency" at which they vibrate.

And, since I intend to live past twenty-five this time, _thankyouverymuch, _I needed to be as untouchable as freaking _possible._ That means using anything I can to not die. And since friggin' _everything _in this world is powered by chakra, if I can learn to find and change frequencies fast enough, I could punch straight through attacks and cancel them out! Bitches, I was gonna _liiiiiive!_

And, though the book was frustrating and pissed me off to no end with its insatiable need to be a total bitch to whoever was reading it, I had to admit it was a huge help. Even with its insane directions and endless attempts to tie my brain in a knot.

But back to Swirl.

I breathed in and out, closing my eyes, trying to calm down from my awesome rant.

"Okay," I coached myself. "Just lie down, picture your chakra, and… swirl."

Meditation was a lot harder than it sounded.

The book said something about having to shut down all of your senses, one by one.

Sight was easiest- I just closed my eyes.

Then came hearing, which was surprisingly difficult.

Next was touch.

This step was a bitch and a half, as I had to sort of… _float _my senses away from my body.

And then was thought.

All I heard was white noise, all I thought of was a black screen.

And then I felt my chakra.

It glowed in the dark, I could see it with my eyes closed. I could feel it flowing like small rivers, flowing and moving and very much _alive._

It spread across my arms and legs in spiderweb-like tendrils, carefully draped around my body all the way to my fingertips, pooling together massively at my stomach. I felt it flow around my head and my heart and my lungs and my legs and arms and _everywhere._ It was an addicting feeling.

And, before I turn hippie, I should sum it up nicely by saying it was all very feng shui. Very zen. Very chill.

I felt my breath catch, but I ignored whatever was affecting me on the outside and _swished _my chakra around, tentatively at first, but then swinging it into a full circle, around and around.

It vaguely reminded me of a certain Pokémon Platinum poffin-making game.

After thoroughly spinning it one direction, I eased it to the left, mixing it clockwise.

I loved messing with chakra. I mean, yeah, I could die from it, and yeah, I probably shouldn't be doing it without proper supervision, but it made me feel _strong. _Every second I spent practicing in the woods increased my chances of _not dying._

And then I was rudely awoken by a kick to the stomach.

Okay, really, it was more of a nudge, but I was rudely awoken and toddlers are generally cranky wakers.

I snapped my eyes open and immediately voiced my concerns of, "_Who the he-," _until I froze.

Nobody was there, but I could've sworn there was a rustle in the trees and I felt as if I were being watched.

I looked around, unnerved, with a hand on the tiny knife I had swiped from the kitchen just in case I got into trouble this deep in the woods.

Nobody came out.

A bit freaked, I wrapped my books into the sheet and got the hell out of dodge.

And, though I didn't know it, that's when my relatively peaceful life in Kami to Sumi got blown to shit.

* * *

><p>I had gotten into a rhythm of sorts- wake up at six, eat, train, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat. I ran around the village until I was a blur, and I smacked a log around until I couldn't feel my arms.<p>

Haru had gotten me a second-hand taijutsu scroll for me on my birthday two months ago, which greatly added to my variety of ways to train. Since all I had done previously were the basic things I'd done in last life's gym class, it wasn't really saying much. I still hugged the stuffing out of Haru, though.

Training was all I seemed to do, all day, every day. With the exception of when Haru cooked for the orphanage, of course. I always, _always_ made time to cook with Haru.

I also kept up with the times. As in, I got news about the war via eavesdropping. While the war was officially over, it was only just waning. Small skirmishes still appeared on the border, and, living along there, we were still at risk of attack. Yes, there was a stretch of Grass Country between here and there, but it was completely trampled in the war, and Iwa seemed reluctant to pull up some of their camps, which was a bitch and a half. They were, however seeming to pull out, though paranoid shinobi made paranoid civilians and paranoid civilians meant (what I thought were) unnecessary precautions.

And, of course, bandits still sucked.

The rebuilding towns and such were vulnerable, and though you usually couldn't get too terribly much out of raiding one person, getting a hundred people, which was about as big as our town got, was pretty rewarding. And if you hit two or three in a month? It was raining ryo, hallelujah!

And the bandits, who grew like rats, swarmed any and every place they could get their slimy paws on.

If bandits were more of a problem than shinobi, it meant one of two things- either there were really scary bandits, or there were really pathetic shinobi. And usually it was the former.

Because of the paranoia going around, what with the threat of bandits and shinobi, every time someone caught wind of the words "Iwa" or "bandits", we were all corralled into basements and I was _squished _ and the all the children that made up a whole forty percent of the population started _crying _and _for God's sake, we do this every stinking month, why are you all not used to this by now?_

And, whenever I could, I tried my damnedest to find out who my parents were. I didn't find anything until an old lady came in.

All of the matrons ran to the door and welcomed her, asking how she was doing these days, and did you hear that the newlyweds down the street had a kid?, and I realized that I _remembered _her. She was the one who took care of me during my autopilot years, the one who had found me on the doorstep. Surely _she _must know something about my parent, right?

And right I was.

"Who were my parents?" I asked, no-nonsense, straight to the point. Maybe I was a bit _too _blunt, but I was tired of living with too many questions and too few answers.

She stopped and turned to me. "Masuyo?" she asked.

I nodded, a bit surprised she remembered me.

"Oh, I never met your mother, but I remember your father, however briefly we met," she said, giving me a patented old lady smile.

I ached to snap and shout _And? Who was he? What did he look like? Did he look like me? Give me answers!_ but I held my tongue and simply stared at her until she spoke again, an odd mist turning her eyes the slightest shade of grey.

"Well, your father didn't look too much like you, but you have the same eyes," she said, barely over a whisper, her face all but going slack. A bit wary, I stepped back.

"We would have turned you down," she continued. "The orphanage was full at the time, you see, but then he sang such a pretty… pretty song, and we couldn't _not _take you, understand?"

_Genjutsu? _I thought. _It must be genjutsu. It's impressive to see it lasted this long. Genjutsu through song? Could I exploit that later? Can I even carry a tune in this body?_

My next thoughts were: "_This body." Dammit, I'm starting to sound like Orochimaru._

* * *

><p>Our town was small, but it was <em>special.<em> Special in a way that made you never forget it, even if you were just passing through.

Yes, it was plain. Yes, it seemed that green, gray, and brown paint had been on clearance during its construction.

But we knew _how to do _things.

Not the normal village things, like counting, bartering, and how to rip people off (Well, we did know how to do that fairly well, but that's beside the point.).

We knew how to _dance _and _sing_ and _act_ and _recite poetry._ So, however small the village was, _we knew how to party._

Actually, it had been a famous tourist hot-spot, but being so close to the border, travellers stopped coming during the war and we expected they wouldn't come back until next year.

So, at the tender age of six, I used my orphan allowance that I got every other week for running chores around the orphanage to buy a yukata.

It wasn't the fanciest thing in the world, and it was all a solid navy blue, but it was the cheapest thing I could find for the end-of-harvest festival. Actually, it was all I bought for the festival, deciding to just wear my normal running sandals instead of spending more money. I needed to buy things at the festival, right?

One of the matrons helped me learn how to put the yukata on over my usual shorts and a T-shirt, and I ran out to the festival, my cloth knapsack thrown over my shoulder. The knapsack had been a present from the government- as in, it was issued by our mayor so we had something to throw our valuables in should bandits ever come a-raiding. I had filled it with my books that I brought everywhere with me, my official papers that I swiped from the office in an attempt to find more about my parents, a blue plastic hairbrush in case Kronos comes, and my money, since it was the best bag I owned and I was fully intent on filling it with festival goodies.

I met up with Haru in the town square and he escorted me around.

"So, Masuyo, how've you been?" he asked.

I offered him a gap-toothed grin. "I've been good. My chakra control's been awesome, and training's really fun," I told him, lisping my way through the syllables. Losing teeth wasn't fun.

"Where do you want to go, then?" he asked.

I shrugged. It was my first time at a festival, how would I know? Suddenly, he swooped me up onto his shoulders with a false grunt of effort. I was very grateful to be wearing shorts under my yukata.

After my initial shriek of surprise, I wrapped my skinny arms around his head. "What've you been eating, rocks?" he asked.

I swatted at the back of his head. "Why, is your head missing some?" I asked.

"Ouch," he chuckled. "As sharp a tongue as ever, little miss kunoichi."

He guided me around the festival, buying treats for me when I wasn't looking close enough to pay for myself.

"I can pay for myself, Haru," I pouted, munching on a candy apple grumpily, still on his shoulders.

Haru laughed his handsome laugh. If he wasn't so young compared me mentally, I would have the biggest childhood crush ever. "But it's proper etiquette for a man to pay for his little lady, right?"

I huffed. " 'M not little," I grumbled, moving my candy apple so the side I hadn't bitten off of hung in front of his face. He let go of one of my legs for a second to move my hand closer to take a bite.

"Where to, next?" he asked. I looked around for a second before pointing to a stand a bit further away from the main part of town.

"I wanna see what's over there," I said around a mouthful of apple.

He carried me over to the stand, walking farther from the town square as I admired the lanterns hanging all over town.

Haru put me down so I could stare down at the artfully crafted porcelain. Cats, mice, dogs, a few colorful ones I couldn't identify, and some plain white ones with colorful accents. None of them were too ANBU-esque, though, for legal reasons.

After wishing I had enough for a cat mask, I put it down and decided to check out the rest of the festival.

Haru trailed after me.

I pretended not to notice him slipping something heavy into my bag, even though I moved slightly to the left to put my small hand into his calloused one.

I loved that boy to death.

And then the sirens blared

and our small town

_freaked _

_the fuck _

_o u t._

My first thoughts were, _What's going on? Is this another useless drill? Is something really happening?_ Haru wordlessly hoisted me up onto his back and _charged._

He twisted through the village, taking back alleys and jumping over half walls like a slip of wind, never having to stop for festival-goers because of his unorthodox paths.

"Where are we going?" I managed to shout over the sirens. Something was wrong. The sirens only went on for fifteen seconds, tops. They'd been blaring at top volume for nearly three minutes. What the hell was going on?

"Stables," he answered, moving faster.

"What about the basements?" I asked. "We're supposed to go there!"

"Not this time, kid," he answered. "Sorry."

We flew around the outskirts of the village, only stopping once we got inside the barn where all the horses were kept and- _oh my God, what was that outside I swear I saw someone jumping through the trees holy shit what is this-_

Haru shushed me quickly, realizing I was about to start freaking out any second.

"What the heck is going on?" I whisper-shouted, frustrated, but trying to keep my voice down.

"I'm not sure, but you've been found. There are some bad shinobi outside. We're under attack. I have to hide you," he answered in one breath, coming out of a room with a bucket.

"Hide me? What?" I asked. My eyes narrowed. "Explanation. Now."

"You know my brother died in a bandit attack, right?" he asked. I nodded. "That's a lie." I blinked at his bluntness, a silent _go on _hanging in the air. "He died in a ninja fight somewhere in the woods, about two or three miles to Kami to Sumi. Got caught in the crossfire on accident."

"And?" I asked impatiently as he threw a saddle onto a horse. "What does _that _have _anything at all_ to do with _this?"_

"It was a mess between your parents and some unidentified nin," he said simply.

I stopped. What? Wait, wait, wait, _what?_

"My brother was chasing after some livestock that got loose, and he met them. He distracted the shinobi long enough for your father to escape, and your mother was already dead. Childbirth, I think, I'm not sure," he rambled, sitting me on a stool.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Disguising you," he answered. "Isn't it obvious?"

He plunged his hands into what I now recognized as bits of ink stone, crushed into a powder.

"Cover your face, Masuyo," he ordered. I pushed my shaking hand into my face as Haru rubbed the dark color into my hair until it was hard to see how red it was underneath without being up close.

"He dropped you off at the orphanage, found me, and gave me those basic books. Said they were just in case you wanted to be a shinobi. And that you should go to their old safe house if you wanted any more," Haru said roughly, massaging the powder into my hair. It itched.

"He was also the reason I got to keep my money. He wanted me to look after you, ya know? So now I'm looking after you. And before you can say anything about taking care of yourself-" he said, quieting me with a finger. "No, you cannot. No matter how freakishly mature you are, you're physically limited at six. But back to the house.

"The place is supposedly covered in seals. You need to put something, spit, sweat, hair, anything with your DNA, preferably blood on them before you can get in. It's north, then, where the path starts to branch off, you have to take a hard right. There won't be a path, but ignore that. You'll find the house. Go to Konoha, there should be a map in your bag, and tell the Hokage," Haru said, pausing his enlightening monologue. "And… Masuyo?"

I looked up at him nervously. "Yeah?"

"Don't die," he said, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips.

I nodded. "Okay."

And, pure determination shining on his features, he threw me onto the horse and brought his hand down onto its flank.

The horse whinnied and surged forward.

And dammit, I should have done _something. _

I should've, I should've, just _asked _what Haru was going to do, or I could've, I dunno, I could've _made _him come with me.

If I wasn't so scared that I couldn't say anything more than two syllables I might have asked him to promise me that he'd live.

But then again, that would've been selfish of me.

Because I knew he was going to die.

I saw it in the way that he charged right back to the center of town, not even faltering when an explosion so big it almost made me fall off my horse made the ground shudder.

He wasn't going to make it.

I was sure of it.

I shouldn't make people into liars by forcing them into promises even I couldn't keep.

Why did I say okay?

Why didn't I just say I'd try my best?

Why did I say I'd live when the chances of which were neigh?

Why?

Why indeed.

But I wouldn't forget the sign on the headbands of those who attacked, proudly signifying that, yes, shinobi were attacking.

The little ovals that represented clouds seemed to laugh as little Kami to Sumi burned.

The little ovals of cloud.

And all I would do was wonder what had just happened in under the time frame of an hour.

I could've sworn we were just enjoying a festival, and now everything was on fire.

All I would do was wonder.

Why indeed.

My newly colored black hair whipped behind me, getting into my eyes a few times that I swear weren't crying, and my smudged yukata flew behind me like a flag of farewell.

_Why indeed._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Eh… I'm not really happy with this chapter. Too much... Too much of everything, I guess. Maybe I'll go back and edit it some day, but for now, it'll do. **

**I fixed Masuyo's backstory a bit, and removed all of the pointless characters.**

**Tell me if I screwed up anywhere, and I'll do my best to fix it. I'll try to update later. Bye, my ducklings~**


End file.
